


Parting Gifts

by romanticalgirl



Category: British Actor RPF, Hornblower RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how we say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parting Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://widget285.livejournal.com/profile)[**widget285**](http://widget285.livejournal.com/) for a little Christmas-y present. Thanks to[](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[ **inlovewithnight**](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/) and [](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/)**nolivingman** for the beta!
> 
> Originally posted 12-24-07

It’s half celebration, half mourning as Jamie empties the dregs of the bottle into his glass. The table in front of him is littered with empty glasses, empty bottles and what remains of the barrel full of confetti Sean and Paul had dumped over his head. He lifts his glass and presses it to Ioan’s, leaning against Ioan’s shoulder as he does. “To Archie.”

“Here, here.” Ioan reaches for his glass and misses, catching it on the second try. “To Archie.”

“You’re drunk.” Jamie tosses back his drink and manages to look up at Ioan. “A disgrace of a Welshman.”

“Just because you’re half-Irish, you think you’re a bloody drunkard.” Ioan presses his glass to his lips and drains it in one long swallow. “And I am a credit to my country.”

“You’re behind two drinks to one.”

“As if I’d trust your math. Can’t even handle a little sphe…spher…shit. What’s the round stuff?”

McGann sinks down on the other side of Ioan with a fresh bottle, refilling both their glasses. “Lots of round stuff, Ioan. Breasts. Arses.”

Jamie laughs and slaps Ioan’s thigh. “Sheep!”

“Bastard.” Ioan shoves Jamie off his shoulder and grabs his glass, emptying it easily. “Holy…Christ, McGann. What is that?”

“Best you’ve ever had.” He refills Ioan’s glass and takes a hit straight off the bottle then sets it between Jamie and Ioan. “Drink up lads. I’m off.”

“Is that what I get for goodbye?” Jamie slides his lower lip out in a pout. “No wonder they’ve killed me off. You all hate me.”

Paul walks around, helping Jamie to his feet, enveloping the younger man in a long hug. Jamie holds him tight, the first wave of emotion threatening to drown him as he clings to him, slowly pulling away after a few moments. He bites the inside of his lip then offers Paul a smile. “Pleasure serving with you, Mr. Bush.”

Paul smiles in return and ruffles Jamie’s hair, reminding him how weightless he feels without the extensions. “Drink up. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Have we established if there are things you won’t do?” Jamie asks with an arched eyebrow. “I’ve worked with Richard Grant as well, you know.” He can almost see Ioan’s eyebrows go up and he smiles, imagining the avenues his mind is likely going off in.

“Cheeky arse, Bamber,” Paul laughs at him and hugs him once more for good measure. “Going to get you in trouble some day.”

“My arse is my best feature.”

Paul shakes his head and takes a few steps back, his eyes skirting from Jamie to Ioan and back again, eyebrows raised. “One of ‘em, yeah.”

“You want me, McGann.”

“Want you gone, Bamber.” He waves and disappears through the thinning crowd as Jamie sinks back down at the table and tosses back his drink.

It does burn like fire, even as much as he’s drunk, and it pools in his stomach and groin. Ioan’s looking at him with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, and Jamie’s not sure what to make of it. “My bottle.” He claims Paul’s parting gift. “And I am going to bed.”

Ioan’s dark eyes are nearly black. He pushes his chair back. “I’ll walk you up.”

Jamie takes a hit off the bottle and passes it to Ioan. “Don’t need to.”

“I’ve got a present for you. Going away present.” Ioan takes the bottle, and Jamie thinks his hand shakes as he does, but he can’t be sure, because the whole room’s shifting as he walks.

The elevator is buried back at the end of the dark hallway and Jamie realizes how late it likely is, and wonders if the party will still be going on when he drags his arse out of bed for breakfast. He follows Ioan down the hallway, watching his strange, rolling gait. He’s grown into his limbs a bit since the first movies, but his legs are still so damn long. Jamie measures the stretch of them as Ioan walks, and wonders briefly if Ioan’s inseam is longer than Jamie’s legs altogether.

The door to the elevator is open, the milky yellow light glaring on the deep blue carpet of the hall. Jamie trundles in, taking another hit off the bottle then relinquishing it to Ioan as he climbs in as well. Ioan’s on a higher floor than him, so Jamie leans back and rests his head, his eyes slanted toward the other man.

“Why’d you get me a present?”

“It’s a going away present.” Ioan shrugs and takes a drink. “You’re going away.”

Logic evades Jamie just as easily as spherical geometry. “We’re all going away.”

Ioan turns and looks at him, then crosses the small distance of the elevator in one long, easy stride. He’s close now, and warm, and lifting the bottle to Jamie’s lips. Ioan’s voice is one Jamie doesn’t recognize, deep and thick. “Don’t want you to go.”

Jamie opens his mouth for the drink and instead feels Ioan’s mouth on his. Warm and wet, tasting of McGann’s rotgut, his tongue is heavy and thick against Jamie’s. Someone moans, and Jamie’s not certain it’s not him. He shifts, his hands warring between pushing and pulling and Ioan’s deepening the kiss and Jamie’s hands are fisting in his shirt and bringing him closer and then Jamie’s leaning back and Ioan’s leaning in and there’s hard flesh beneath faded blue jeans.

“Oh, God…” Jamie breaks away and sucks in air as though he’s never tasted it before. Ioan’s mouth is on his neck, unwilling to give up any advantage so recently won, and Jamie thinks maybe he’s drunk or maybe he’s dreaming, but the light on the elevator says 14, and he knows sure as anything that his room’s back on the 8th floor, and Ioan is on the 14th.

The bell dings and Ioan pulls away, leaving behind the warm wet of his mouth on Jamie’s neck. “C’mon.” Ioan’s voice still has that low, rough quality that makes Jamie’s cock even harder, and he’s not sure what’s happening or why, but he’s relatively certain he’s enjoying it and wanting it, as his blood is pulsing and he’s following Ioan off the elevator and down the hallway to his room.

They’ve spent time here, both of them drinking beer and wine and reading lines and bullshitting, making fun of McGann and talking about the girls down on the beach below, tops bared and unselfconscious. This is different though, as Ioan manages to get the door unlocked, catching Jamie’s hand and guiding him inside. This is the door shutting with the force of Jamie against it, with Ioan’s mouth warm on his, with Ioan’s knee between his legs.

“Oh, God.” He groans against Ioan’s kiss, opening his mouth beneath it. Kissing blokes isn’t like kissing girls, even when the bloke is as clean-shaven as Ioan. It’s stronger and more forceful, more demanding. He rests his hands on Ioan’s hips and then slides them beneath his shirt, pulling it free of his jeans to find warm, warm skin.

“Yes.” It’s Ioan’s turn to groan and he does it against Jamie’s jaw, nipping at the skin and then sucking on it. Jamie’s hard, so hard, and all he can feel is the pressure of Ioan, equally hard, thrusting against him. Ioan’s hands are tugging Jamie’s shirt free of his shirt, up his body, over his head and then they’re on him, running up Jamie’s back and pulling him closer, into another kiss that makes Jamie’s head spin even more than the liquor did.

Jamie’s nails rake down Ioan’s back and Ioan jerks forward, pressing Jamie hard against the door.

“Christ, Bamber,” Ioan breathes, the sound tinged with a low whinge of want. “Bed, yeah?”

Jamie brings his hands back to Ioan’s waist, torn between nervous and excited. “N-never…”

“Don’ care what you’ve done,” Ioan kisses him again, and it lasts for ages, both of them aggressive and submissive by turns, hands moving, stroking, touching and pricks rubbing together, the whispery slide of denim loud against the soft echo of desire, the low moans and whimpers that melt into their kiss. “What d’you want?”

Jamie’s laugh is husky and warm. “Bed. Yeah.”

Ioan laughs as well, and pulls away, leaving Jamie bereft of his heat and with no recourse but to follow along in his wake. He kicks off his shoes and fumbles with his jeans as Ioan strips out of his, both of them down to their briefs, stepping out of their socks before coming together again, groaning in unison at the touch of flesh and the hardness against wet, thin cloth that barely separates them.

Ioan guides Jamie down to the bed, staring at him. “God, you’re lovely.”

“Not like you’ve not seen me without my shirt, Gruffudd.” Jamie’s attempt at humor is undermined by the low rumble of his voice, everything teasing tangled up in want.

“’s different.” Ioan’s fingers run up Jamie’s thighs and then he braces himself over Jamie, crawling up his body. “No cameras, no technicians watching, no one telling us what to do.” He plants a kiss just above Jamie’s left nipple then teases the hard nub of it with his nose. Jamie shudders and Ioan takes the nipple in his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before catching it with his teeth and teasing it with his tongue.

Jamie’s hips arch off the bed and his hands catch Ioan’s hips, attempting to pull him down, to feel him. “Ioan…”

“Slow, Bamber.” Ioan moves his mouth to Jamie’s other nipple, giving it the same treatment and doing his level best to ignore the insistent pull of Jamie’s hands. “Easy.”

“Not easy, Ioan.” Jamie’s laugh is ragged. “Hard.”

“I know.” Ioan smiles and complies, kissing him just as hard as his cock is against Jamie’s.

Jamie groans, his hands grasping at Ioan’s hips and tugging at the waistband of his briefs, slipping his hands beneath it. He fans his fingers out over Ioan’s arse, pulling him down harder against him, grinding upward. Ioan gasps and shudders and Jamie digs his fingers in, slowing the roll of his hips to a lazy thrust.

“Fuck.” Ioan shudders, unable to keep from matching Jamie’s easy stroke. “Jamie…”

“Please.” Jamie laughs and shifts his hands, tugging Ioan’s briefs down. Ioan angles upward, allowing Jamie to ease them over his erection. Jamie pushes them down as far as he can, settling them midway down Ioan’s thighs before arching off the bed himself, and tugging his own shorts down. “Please.”

Ioan shudders again and lowers himself down against Jamie, groaning roughly as flesh meets flesh. Jamie’s head falls back and his eyes close, and he just feels it for a moment, his hands back on Ioan’s arse, holding him in place as Jamie thrusts against him.

They move together, part fumbling and part desperation, eventually settling into a rhythm of give and take. Ioan’s cock is long and thick and Jamie begins to catalogue the disparities between this and women, and then loses his train of thought as Ioan reaches between them and wraps a hand around both of them, holding them together as they thrust.

“Oh…G-god.” Jamie shudders this time, his fingers digging into Ioan’s arse hard. “I-Ioan…God.”

“’s good, yeah?” Ioan’s panting roughly, his mouth against Jamie’s neck, nibbling and sucking on the flesh he’s painting with every breath. “’s good?”

“God, yes.” Jamie’s entire body is tight with want, with need, and he pulls Ioan closer still, raking his fingers over the curve of Ioan’s arse. He’s gasping desperately, reminded of his first ill-fated sexual experience as his body jerks in the wake of Ioan’s rough stroking. “S-so good.”

He curves a leg around Ioan’s and thrusts up as best he can, his fingers flexing. Ioan gasps and tightens his grip and every muscle in Jamie’s body tenses. He arches up into Ioan and shudders, feeling Ioan’s mouth on his neck, feeling Ioan’s body tighten. and then feeling nothing but the rush of heat pulse through him and the thick wet of his orgasm as he comes.

Ioan slumps down against him, easing his hand from between them. Jamie groans as he lets go, shivering roughly. “’s good?” Ioan asks softly, nuzzling Jamie’s neck, distracting him from the wetness trapped between them.

“Yeah,” Jamie whispers, turning his head to kiss just below Ioan’s ear. “Was amazing.”

Ioan smiles and Jamie can feel it against his skin. “We spilled McGann’s bottle.”

“Was nasty stuff.” Jamie strokes his hand up Ioan’s back. “This ‘s a much better g’bye.”

“So you want to do this with McGann?” Ioan teases him, easing back to look at him.

“Well…” Jamie laughs as Ioan smacks him on the arm. “Teasing. Jesus, Gruffudd. Bit of jealousy going on there, eh?”

Ioan frowns and Jamie does as well, unsure if he’s said something wrong. Ioan shakes his head and traces the furrow in Jamie’s brow. “Would that be all right?”

“What?”

“Being jealous?”

“I’m leaving, Ioan.”

“I know.” He traces down to the tip of Jamie’s nose and taps it, then moves to outline his lips. “So’m I, eventually.”

“Suppose that’s true.” Jamie slides his hand up Ioan’s back then brings it to his forehead, pushing back the tumble of curls. “Nothing to be jealous of, you know.”

“You’re not hot for McGann?”

“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” Jamie teases, still stroking Ioan’s hair. “But I wouldn’t invite him in, either.”

“And me?”

Jamie laughs and kisses him, surprised at how easy it all is, wondering if it’s the alcohol, and knowing all the while that it isn’t. “No invitation needed.”  



End file.
